13/06/2012
When I was eighteen I was really into random acts of anonymous kindness. I can't remember if I saw the concept on TV or read about it in a book or just landed on it myself, but for a few months there I was the nicest stranger you could hope to meet.
I used to leave wild daffodils hanging from the doorknobs of random apartments in my building, I used to write anonymous notes telling people how awesome they were, I dropped all my one cent coins on the ground so people could find them, pick them up, and have good luck for the whole day.
I guess I was pretty idealistic, but even now (and I think we can all agree that I'm aggressively cynical) it upsets me how people reacted to these gestures. I'd find the daffodils in the hallways with their heads ripped off, I'd find the notes just left around the place or torn up.
The lesson of this post is that life is not, unfortunately, a Zooey Deschanel film. Everyone is too disenfranchised and self-involved to appreciate kindness when they are shown it. It's pretty sad.
YOU ARE READING
Honest To Blog: My Misadventures
General FictionNot a story, just me ranting and raving really. Not expecting you all to read this or anything, though I can guarantee humour and alarming self-righteousness.
